Dim the Lights

Loathe, an honest man must be, to admit delight in the dark. The fascination of blurred sensations ... The quieting of the mind's endless machinations ... As consciousness narrows to a single contemplation ... like the gaze from a window in a warm, cozy house, into a wild, wintry dance of snow. Yet, I must admit this poison I drink freely is tasteful to me beyond its mere taste. And I avert eyes when I skirt the painful truth - that I enjoy the way it subdues my mind and will, the way it offers false comfort through temporary ignorance of responsibility, the way it makes simple things brim with sudden significance, as though seen for the first, or from the eyes of a child. And there's even some part of me that wishes to see, how much it will take to whelm over me. With each sip, gulp, and glass, I dare liquid luck to break my mind, my control, my genius - if it can! Some genius it is who takes delight in constant recalculations of what it takes to dim his light. 5 September 2020